The Trouble With Americans
by blockedthewriter
Summary: Highschool AU. The exploration of the strange friendship between a studious Japanese boy and a rowdy, blond American. Pre-slash.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the right to any of the characters in this story. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya and their respective companies. No profit is made from this writing and no copyright infringement is intended.

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The Trouble With Americans...

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Generally, Kiku had always liked school. From a young age school was something his parents had taught him to take pride in. Doing well in school mattered; it was a social status, a sign of intelligence, and it would be a large part of his life and become a large part of his future. More than all of that, however, it was something that Kiku had always found terribly easy.

Today, for the first time ever, Kiku was beginning to find concentrating on his schoolwork increasingly difficult.

The fluorescent lights were much too bright, and there were far too many of them. He was fairly certain he'd be able to see the board just fine—from the very back of the room no less—with half the lights and half the watts. He knew there wasn't anything he could do about it, but it was nonetheless irritating. He was fairly certain all of his frustrations weren't even stemming from the lighting, but rather from the whole classroom environment in itself.

It was nothing like school in Japan. School in Japan was an environment_ suited _for learning. This wasn't a classroom at all. It was chaos. It was a zoo. The students seemed to do everything but listen to the teacher—pass notes, talk to their neighbors (or people from across the room), doodle in the corners of their papers—several students had taken their shoes off, and three of them were blatantly sleeping!

Then there was the boy who sat in front of him. He had the brightest, blindingly yellow shade of blond hair Kiku had ever seen—and he constantly talked. Constantly. He talked to the boy on the right, he talked to the girl on the left, he talked to the boy in front of him. Occasionally, Kiku noted, he could even be caught talking to himself. Out loud. Thankfully, he hadn't yet turned around and attempted conversation with him.

Kiku was grateful for it.

As loud as the boy was, and as loud as the classroom was, in the end, it was all external and therefor it was all ignorable. Kiku could block out the noise successfully if he tried hard enough. He was sure of it. Closing his eyes, he willed his body to relax, muscle by muscle. After a few moments, he could feel the tension draining from his head. All was well. He could do this. This inner-city public American highschool would not ruin his otherwise pristine school record, nor his chances to attend the University of his choice.

Reminding himself that life was not always easy, he took a deep breath, smoothed out the wrinkles in his khaki pants, and opened his eyes.

"Are you Chinese?" The blond asked, turning completely in his seat—arching and eyebrow and leaning far too much onto Kiku Honda's desk—and thus, leaning far too much into his very personal space. Weren't there rules in American schools? Rules about staying seated and not talking in class and paying attention to the teacher? Apparently not.

"Ah no, sorry." It wasn't the first time Kiku had been asked. Who would have guessed that in America—land of the immigrants—everyone would be so interested in his heritage? He shook his head, tucked a piece of coal black hair behind his ear, and attempted to resume his classwork.

"So, whaddayou, like, Korean or something?" The Japanese youth took a deep breath and shook his head. That was usually the second guess, although not always, sometimes the second guess was—

"Filipino?" He shook his head again. What was it with this guy? Why did he just keep talking—and right in front of the teacher? Not for the first time, Kiku found himself wishing that schools in America were a little more like schools in Japan. Westerners were far too lax about discipline, it seemed.

"No, I'm...uh..." Despite having lived in America for more than a year, the language still seemed elude him at the worst of times.

"Vietnamese?" The blond offered again, and it had Kiku wondering just how recently the prescription on his glasses had been checked. Right on cue, the blond leaned in further, as if attempting to examine his face up close. For what reason Kiku wasn't quite sure. Perhaps the blond thought that if he squinted enough Kiku's ethnicity would reveal itself.

Uncomfortable, the Asian could feel himself leaning away, before managing a rather weak:

"Japanese." He swallowed. "I'm, ah, Japanese, actually."

"Japanese?" The boy exclaimed loudly, turning several heads. The way he'd said it was so incredulous, as if what Kiku was saying was truly unbelievable. He'd said it as if Kiku had just told him that he was part Yorkshire-Terrier, on his mother's side.

Kiku watched curiously as Alfred's eyes widened like saucers. "Like, right outta_ Japan_?" The last part wasn't even an exclamation, but a shout. A full-blown, mouth-wide-open, ear-splitting, shout.

The teacher threw him a rather curt look, but otherwise continued teaching. Kiku couldn't believe it. It was if the students ran the classroom instead of the teachers. His old school hadn't been like this—and not even his old school back in Japan—but the one he'd attended in America prior to moving to the city.

"So did you like, live in Japan?" To be quite honest, Kiku was a little taken aback. At his old school, people had never accosted him about his ethnicity, and they certainly had never asked him if he was one "right outta Japan." Grant it, inner-city Philadelphia was a lot different than the suburbs of Pennsylvania, but who knew it would be so different?

"Yes, I was born there. My family and I moved here two years ago." Alfred gave him a very impressed look. The type of look you give someone when they tell you they just scored a twenty-four-hundred on the SATs.

"So you speak Japanese, right?" Kiku had definitely been asked more intelligent questions. Being born into a country and living there for several years usually meant you could at least speak the given language. Americans weren't exactly known for the academic skills, but this guy seemed to be particularly lacking in common sense as well.

Seemingly having realized his mistake, the blond quickly added, "Er, I mean, will you, like, say something in Japanese?"

"Ah..." All Kiku could kept thinking was why? Why was this guy talking to him? Why did he care if Kiku was Japanese or or Chinese? What did it matter if he knew Japanese? Just how was he supposed to placate this person?

"Ano...what would you like me to say?" Kiku glanced up at the chalkboard in dismay. He'd have to look the lesson over in his textbook when he got home; he'd completely fallen behind.

"I dunno! Um, how do you say this class sucks balls?" Despite his intentions, Kiku found himself chuckling softly. What an outgoing guy he was.

"I'm afraid I really don't think I could do that phrase justice in Japanese." Translations weren't always that easy. Sure, he could say something that got the basic idea across, like, I don't like this class, or this class is no good, but it still wouldn't have quite the same meaning as it did in English, especially when someone so American said it.

"Aw man, really? Uh, well...you know any cuss words?" Of course he did. You can't live in a country your entire life and come out completely innocent. Kiku knew all kinds of inappropriate words and dirty phrases—that didn't mean he wanted to say them.

"I don't know, I really don't—" He was going to try to explain that things just weren't that simple, he was going to try to make up some excuse, any excuse, but then—

"How do you say I love you?" He suddenly blurted. Kiku really, really hoped he wasn't blushing. That just seemed a little undignified. I love you? Why would anyone need to say something as embarrassing and as private as _that_?

"No, it's not like that! I mean—there's this hot Asian chick I know, and like, if I ever get up her shirt or anything I wanna know what to say! You know, hit up Japan and sweep all the ladies off their feet!" Before Kiku could garner a moment to think anything—much less about how ridiculous this guy was being—the blond was in his face again, glasses oddly reflective under the too-bright fluorescent lights.

"I forgot to tell ya!" He started, then reached out a hand. It seemed oddly formal all of a sudden, but it wasn't like Kiku had any room to question formality.

"The name's Alfred!" He declared, grabbing Kiku's smaller hand and giving it a firm shake. "Alfred fuckin' Jones!"

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	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the right to any of the characters in this story. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya and their respective companies. No profit is made from this writing and no copyright infringement is intended.

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The Trouble With Americans...

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The ceilings were too high. They had to be well over ten-feet tall. Kiku couldn't for the life of him figure out why the Philadelphia School District couldn't seem to find the funding for basic art classes or new textbooks, yet they seemed to have plenty of money to pay for high ceilings and their outrageous electric bill (because with that many fluorescent lights, their electric bill _had_ to be high.) What was the point? Was the school district fraught with worry; were they suddenly expecting loud, blind, giants to come stumbling into the classroom?

"Hey!" Someone shouted. Kiku immediately recognized the voice. He took it all back. Every single thing that had just crossed his mind—he took it all back! The school district was right. They were right to be expecting blind, loud, tall giants._ They existed._

"Sorry I'm late—yeah I know..." Kiku made it a point not to lift his eyes from his paper. He could hear Alfred speaking with the teacher.

"What I don't understand is how you can be late to sixth period! Where are you coming from?"

Kiku inwardly sighed. He was slowly beginning to understand why the teachers at this school all seemed to have given up on teaching.

"Well I was in here earlier, I told you I was going to the bathroom—"

"For twenty-five minutes? This period's nearly half over!" The teacher had have a very valid point.

"You didn't mark me late, did you?" Kiku closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.

"Of course I marked you late! Do you know what time it is?"

"But I wasn't late! I was in here earlier—on time! You said I could go to the bathroom!"

Kiku just couldn't comprehend the situation. While Alfred really had been in class earlier—why was the teacher wasting valuable teaching time arguing with Alfred—a _student_? Why not just call the principal, or at this point, why not call security? Adults simply did not argue with students; they were practically children. Back in Japan, the idea of something like this happening was preposterous. No student would ever had the nerve, the audacity—

"Just go take a seat," the teacher finally muttered, clearly exasperated. Kiku felt sorry for him. The students in this school were embarrassing.

"But—you didn't mark me late, right? Cause I was here on time, I just had to go to the bathroom." Kiku wanted to cover his eyes in shame. He couldn't believe it, that these—these _delinquents_ were his peers. These were the people he was expected to socialize with on a regular basis? He was clearly out of his element.

"Go take a seat!" The teacher finally roared, and Kiku cringed. His teachers back in Japan almost never had to raise their voice that way. Classes had always been a formal and fairly peaceful affair. Not here.

"I was just checkin', cause I really was here! You can ask anybody—hey, you!" _Please don't pick me, please don't pick me, please don't pick me—_

"Er, what's your name again?" Kiku could feel the eyes staring into the top of his head, he could feel the incriminating index finger pointing...

He couldn't take it anymore. Kiku looked up.

The instructor did not look angry—intimidating, enraged, or infuriated, maybe—but angry? Not even close. Kiku could see the sweat dripping from his brow, the way it was beginning to dampen and loosen his once-slicked back blond hair. His dark eyebrows were narrowed and knitted, creating deep wrinkles between azure eyes. Kiku could practically see his chest rise and fall with pent up rage.

"Yeah, you, the Japanese guy! Wasn't I here when class started?" Alfred cast him a desperate look. Kiku swallowed. He had been, but still, it didn't excuse him from being in the bathroom for _twenty-five minutes_.

"_Ruhe!_" Mr. Beilschmidt (or as the other students had affectionately dubbed him based on his heritage, Mr. Nazi) shouted, and although Kiku didn't know a lick of German, he could guess what it meant.

"He saw me, trust me! I was here—" That's when the teacher just exploded. He let out a string of German, his face colored like a tomato, and his eyes—gosh—his eyes really were scary. Kiku was glad he hadn't answered Alfred; extremely glad.

Kiku glanced around. The rest of the class was watching the scene with bored disinterest. Several students were sleeping. Kiku wondered if this sort of occurrence was commonplace. It was a few minutes in to Mr. Beilschmidt's tirade that Kiku noticed that the boy next to him was watching the entire spectacle with wide brown eyes.

Well, at least _someone_ found the the whole thing as disturbing as he did.

"Excuse me—" Kiku whispered politely, intending to introduce himself. It wasn't as if there was much else to do. Kiku had long ago finished the sixteen measly algebra problems that had been on the board since the beginning of class.

The brunet turned to him, offering a bright smile.

"Hey," he started, eyes flickering between Kiku and the scene at the front the classroom, "Don't you just think German is _so_ hot?"

Kiku wasn't sure how to answer.

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	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the right to any of the characters in this story. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya and their respective companies. No profit is made from this writing and no copyright infringement is intended.

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The Trouble With Americans...

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So far, Kiku's day had not been going well. Aside from the fact that he'd been late to school, (thanks to the city's ridiculously unreliable public transportation system) he'd also forgotten one of his notebooks, tripped going up the third-floor staircase, and stepped on a piece of blue chewing gum in the hallway. Mind you, this had all happened before he'd even made it into first period. It wasn't until third period that he'd even realized he had two different socks on!—they were both white, but the stitching was still noticeably different. He tried tugging down his pant-leg in hopes of covering them up.

Even worse, third period was his least favorite class—not only was he seated next to his least favorite person, being forced to learn his least favorite language—but all while being taught by the person who was most definitely his least favorite teacher.

It was his Spanish teacher's attitude that bothered him the most. Unlike all of the other teachers whose emotions only teeter-tottered between angry and annoyed, this teacher was constantly cheerful. Kiku figured that if he had to be miserable, his teacher ought to have to be too. Even worse, he was one of those young, fresh-out-of-college sort of teachers. The kind of teachers that think the children are our future and that even inner-city kids have some hope. He was also the sort of adult that still very much wanted to fit in, as if his students were still his peers.

He was the sort of adult that was always trying out the latest slang and butting in on the personal conversations of his students (not that Kiku had any to but in on—but he'd seen it happen.) He was also a little too touchy-feely for Kiku's liking. Personal space was imperative to Kiku. The Japanese weren't the sort of people who just went up and hugged people. They especially weren't the sort used to teachers casually stroking their neck or back. Luckily, Kiku's Spanish teacher didn't seem to have any particular interest in Asians.

Kiku sighed and resisted the urge to chew on his mechanical pencil.

Mr. Hernandez chuckled and Kiku nearly jumped out of his skin. He glanced up nervously, casually attempting to cover his paper with his arm—praying the teacher wouldn't notice he hadn't written anything yet.

"_Tiene problemas?_" Mr. Hernandez inquired, and although Kiku could tell from the inflection of his voice that it was a question, he really had no idea what he was saying. English had been difficult enough to master, Kiku didn't have time to waste trying to learn another entire language—especially one that he would most likely never use outside of secondary school.

Kiku realized with a jolt that the teacher was still smiling down at him with twinkling green eyes. Kiku wished he was someplace else. Anyplace else. Mr. Hernandez gave Kiku chills—and not the good sort, either.

The teacher laughed at what Kiku could only assume was his own stupidity. "I said, having trouble?" Great, now Kiku felt even less intelligent. It was a feeling he was beginning to get used too, but detest nonetheless.

"Um, yes, it's just that—I'm not understanding this very well..." He hated to say it, he really did. He'd made all sorts of promises to himself the day before that he would go home and read ahead in his Spanish textbook in order to catch up with the rest of the class—a class that already seemed capable of conjugating most Spanish verbs.

The problem hadn't been a lack of time or determination, but rather, the fact that this school didn't_ allow _its students to take textbooks home. Apparently the likelihood that they would ever be returned was far too slim.

"It's very easy, it's like this!" The teacher started, tucking a curly lock behind his ear. "The answer to this one is _saber_—that means to know—so that makes number three _tener_! Understand?"

Kiku managed a jerky nod. He most certainly did not understand. His teacher merely telling him the answers had no more furthered his education than if Kiku had merely turned to the right and copied the answers from the boy next to him. He didn't understand any better when Mr. Hernandez supplied him with a word bank. When was the actual teaching part of teacher going to come in?

Kiku glanced around the room nervously.

There was a large black board at the front of the room with sloppily scrawled Spanish and English, and a poster just to right depicting the correct pronunciations of the alphabet in Spanish. Hanging on the door was another poster, this time listing what Kiku assumed to be the names of colors. On top of the filing cabinet was a basket filled with various plastic fruits—and for what that was necessary for, Kiku couldn't even guess.

The teacher's desk was on the far left of the room, cluttered and piled high with stacks of papers, leaving the student's desks lined up in crooked rows in the center. Beneath all the desks were metal grate-like baskets, and in them sat their Spanish textbooks (the 1995 edition) with tattered covers and torn-out pages. Mr. Hernandez said they didn't need them anyway.

Kiku wasn't so sure.

"Okay, now I'm going to need someone to pass out the worksheets—Feliciano and Lovino?" Mr. Hernandez smiled pleasantly at the class, despite not a single student having noticed that he'd begun speaking.

He stood at the front of the room with his held tilted to the side, that stupid smile plastered on his face. It was sort of eerie, the way he could just stand there with that warm smile, waiting for the class to quiet as the minutes ticked by.

Nothing happened. If anything, the chatter increased, the sleeping students began snoring, and from the sound of it, a game of tag was being initiated in the hallway.

Kiku watched from the corner of his eye as Mr. Hernandez began making his way over crashed paper airplanes and schoolbags. So as long as he didn't turn in Kiku's direction, he was safe. He stopped at Feliciano's desk and leaned down to smile.

The instructor must have said something then (Kiku couldn't hear over the talking) because Feliciano grinned and nodded. His twin huffed. While Feliciano had seemed like a nice enough person at first, Kiku was beginning to find him increasingly strange. In fact, Kiku was beginning to find his school increasingly strange.

"_Tiene problemas?_" Someone asked him, just as he'd begun removing his arm from his paper. He quickly covered it back up.

"Um, no!" Kiku said in a rush, hands sweating. "I'm doing fine actually!" He looked up to face the intruder. Alfred smiled.

"Are you sure? 'Cause so far you only got two answers—and I saw Mr. Hernandez come and help you with them." Kiku really hoped he wasn't blushing. This was so embarrassing.

"Really, I'm quite alright. I'm sure I'll manage fine..."

"It's really easy, just lemme help you. Here—" Alfred began pushing his feet against the floor, slowly propelling his desk backward and making the most ear-bleeding screeching noise against the tile. Kiku could feel his jaw tightening with every movement. Everyone else seemed unaffected. There was definitely something wrong with this school.

"Okay, so I'll write down all the verbs so far..." Alfred easily shoved Kiku's arm aside, snatching his mechanical pencil and obtrusively scribbling at the top of Kiku's paper. The hand-writing was awful, but if Kiku squinted he could make out the letters.

"So this is_ saber_—that means to know. All you gotta do is memorize these words and what they mean—well, actually, you don't even gotta memorize 'em. Just write 'em down somewhere, and when he gives out the worksheets, get out your paper. If it's a test or somethin' just write them on your hand, got it?" Was Alfred implying that Kiku cheat on a test? Was this really his advice?

"You want me to cheat?"

Alfred scratched the back of his neck. "Well, unless you really wanna memorize them and all. Pronouncing them ain't really that hard either, you just gotta learn to roll your r's." Kiku tilted his head. Alfred couldn't have meant that literally. It just didn't make any sense. There were so many confusing English phrases that Kiku had yet to understand.

"It's like this, like when you say _rrr_ojo." Kiku couldn't help but notice the way Alfred's tongue moved when he said that. A movement like that with your tongue shouldn't even be possible. He didn't even want to attempt to mimic the action. The failure would be far to embarrassing. Perhaps later, when he was alone in his bedroom in front of his mirror he would try.

His eyes must have widened or something, because then Alfred said:

"Hey! It's not that hard. You'll probably get it eventually. And even if you don't, who cares? Just do like I said and write the stuff on your hand."

Kiku offered a weak smile. "Thank you, but I don't think I could bring myself to cheat." In Japan, the consequences for being caught cheating were very great. Things like that weren't taken lightly.

"Well—hey! I could help you sometimes if you want!" Alfred said enthusiastically. Kiku was beginning to learn that Alfred did most things rather enthusiastically.

"Sure! It'll be great!" Alfred continued on, not bothering to wait for Kiku to answer.

"_I know!_ You're good in Algebra, right?" Kiku gave him a look. How could Alfred possibly know something like that?

"I'm fairly proficient, yes. But how did you know?"

"Well _duh_—I know 'cause you're Asian! So this is great—you help me with Algebra, and I'll help you with Spanish. It's a win-win, right?"

Kiku gave a small smile. "I suppose it will have to be."

With that they both stood, the sound of the bell alerting the students that it was time to switch classes. As they stood up, Alfred gave him the strangest look, sending Kiku into a nervous fit of feeling all over his face for some sort of left-over rice from this morning. Perhaps there was seaweed stuck between his teeth?

"Hey," Alfred started, "Did you know that you're wearing two different socks?"

Kiku paled and hurried out of the classroom before someone else could notice.

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	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the right to any of the characters in this story. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya and their respective companies. No profit is made from this writing and no copyright infringement is intended.

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The Trouble With Americans...

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Despite "Mr. Nazi's" strict schedule and short temper, he was quickly becoming one of Kiku's favorite teachers. Kiku actually looked forward to second period Algebra. Mr. Beilschmidt's rage and intimidation generally kept the volume of the classroom down to a reasonable level, making Kiku feel more at ease. What Kiku considered to be a "reasonable level" of chatter for a classroom had undergone some sharp renovations, buts still, he was slowly adjusting. At least in Algebra, Kiku could think semi-clearly. Besides, math was easily his best subject, stereotypes be damned.

All was well—and of course some God up in the sky or some Demon down below must have noticed that Kiku was feeling just the teeniest bit of contentment—because the very next day some awful blond-haired Californian she-devil walked into the classroom.

Except,_ well_, she wasn't a she-devil at all. _She_ was actually a _he_. His name was "Feliks, with a k, FYI."

He introduced himself with lots of lip-smacking, likes, and teeth-sucking. Then, Mr. Beilschmidt made the worst possible error in judgment in the history of the German people (okay, well maybe not the _worst._) He sat Feliks next to Feliciano Vargas.

Feliciano Vargas.

Of all the Italians to sit Feliks next too (and there was quite a wide selection too, because the school was near South Philadelphia—which was apparently where all the Italians resided), Mr. Beilschmidt sat him next Feliciano-chatterbox-Vargas.

Kiku hadn't had a moment to think a single solitary thought since.

"So like, I was like, seriously Toris, I'll totally visit you and stuff!" Feliciano was nodding his head rapidly, eyes clearly interested. Kiku watched from behind his forearm where his head had previously been resting. He'd given up on trying to do much of anything once the two of them began a conversation.

"And so, he like, totally freaked out! I-d-k why though. I told him, you're still like my super best friend—no offense Feliciano." The Italian put his arms up as if in surrender.

"None taken. I understand how that is, though, to want to be close someone when you can't..." Brown eyes slid none-too-slyly in the direction of the lecturing German.

Feliks' eyes widened in recognition.

"Like, oh-my-god! You totally have the hots for Mr. Angry-red-face up there, don't you?" Kiku could feel the heat creeping up his face, and he wondered if his cheeks were as red as Feliciano's. He turned his head away. This was obviously a very private conversation. He couldn't believe that students were talking about stuff like _that _right in the middle of class, and right where anyone could hear them.

Kiku glanced at the blackboard from in between in his arms. Mr. Beilschmidt was _still _going over the same problem. He wished he had something else to focus his thoughts on. Anything else. He tried thinking about what he would do once he got home. The only thing he could come up with was eating dinner and cleaning his room. Not particularly exciting thoughts. Not the sort of thoughts that could keep his mind occupied for very long, either.

"Yeah, that really sucks. Too bad you're not into Mr. Hernandez, 'cause I think he's totally into young boys or something!"

Kiku could feel his eyes widen. Well, it wasn't as if the same thoughts hadn't crossed his mind, but still, that was the kind of thing you kept yourself.

"No way! Mr. Hernandez is nice. You're so weird—" Feliciano was trying in vain to defend the man. It was obvious Feliks had already made up his mind.

"No, like, seriously. He's _way _too touchy. Maybe it's not even little boys—maybe it just your—or, _ohh!_ I bet it's twins! Maybe he's got like this weird twin-fetish! I only see him get real touchy with you—an, what's your brother's name again?"

"Lovino. His name's Lovino, and I don't think it's like that. Maybe Mr. Hernandez just gets lonely—"

"And wants to stick up Romano's ass." Feliks' finished the sentence with a snort before bursting into laughter.

Kiku went back to hiding his eyes. As time ticked by and boredom settled in, he found himself peaking from behind his elbow yet again, noting that the seat to the left of him was indeed still empty. Alfred was cutting class again. Kiku frowned, before his ears began inadvertently listening to the nearest conversation.

"No, that's like super-convenient for you! He'd probably be really into it, too. No, seriously—I heard that BDSM, like, totally originated in Germany, it's like, part of their national anthem and everything! And scat too—" Suddenly, Kiku wished Alfred was here. He sighed, laying his face flat against his cool desk, and began praying for sleep.

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	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the right to any of the characters in this story. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya and their respective companies. No profit is made from this writing and no copyright infringement is intended.

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The Trouble With Americans...

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Kiku was slowly beginning to come to terms with the fact that he had nearly every class with Alfred. So far Kiku had first, second, third, fifth, seventh, and eighth period with him. The reason it took Kiku approximately two and a half weeks to even notice such a thing was because Alfred rarely attended all of them. Apparently Alfred had decided that today would be a fine day to attend Physical Science class (whatever the hell that was supposed to be), and for the second time this week, no less.

He'd waltzed in ten minutes after the late bell had rung, blond hair sweat slicked and stuck to his forehead, glasses askew, with his blue eyes shinning. He'd pulled at far too baggy jeans uselessly, (they only fell back down again), revealing what could only be—Kiku had actually done a double-take—_Pokemon boxers. _That was definitely a Pikachu he had just seen.

"Hey, I didn't know you had this class!" Alfred proclaimed, much too loudly for an indoor setting, Kiku noted.

"Well, you aren't here very often." Kiku hadn't meant for the statement to sound so accusatory. He really hadn't. Alfred scratched at the nape of his neck sheepishly. It seemed to be a nervous tick.

"Yeah, well, I would'a showed up more if I knew _you_ were in my class." Kiku wasn't sure how to take that—as a compliment, he supposed.

It was strange. Kiku's interaction with Alfred had been fairly limited so far. On the days when Alfred did show up to class, Kiku tried to keep to himself as much as possible. Things were just easier that way.

Alfred grabbed the nearest chair and saddled up beside Kiku, straddling it casually.

"So, you talk to anyone else yet? You seem so quiet all the time." Well then, he'd been found out.

"Sort of. I spoke with one boy the other day. I believe Fel-_ll_-" Who the hell invented the letter l anyway? Such a difficult consonant to wrap your tongue around.

"Feliciano," he managed finally, "I believe that was his name."

"Feliciano? The Italian guy from Algebra? He's alright! Hey—is it true? I heard that we got a new kid! What's he like?" Alfred hadn't been to Algebra since the day before Feliks had been introduced.

"He's, well...he's very interesting." And talkative, and loud. Come to think of it, you and him might become spectacular friends.

"Yeah, I wish I could meet him," Alfred said, sounding forlorn, as if he couldn't just show up to Algebra tomorrow morning and do just that.

"It is a boy, right? Is it a girl? Is she hot?"

"Yes, it is a girl, actually." Kiku added, smiling pleasantly. Apparently Alfred didn't take much notice of personal pronouns.

"Is she hot?" It depends, Kiku wanted to say, are you into blonds?

"If you show up to class tomorrow, you could find out for yourself," he said instead. Kiku wasn't quite sure why he was baiting Alfred this way—perhaps partially for his own entertainment, and partially because he really was beginning to feel stranded in Algebra—especially when was just one seat away from Feliciano-chatterbox-Varges and Feliks-with-a-k, fyi.

"_Ugh,_" Alfred sighed and slumped onto Kiku's desk melodramatically. "But I hate Algebra! And besides, Mr. Beilschmidt's got somethin' against me—I know it!"

Kiku rolled his eyes. Maybe he just ought to save himself the trouble and go and get his GED instead.

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	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the right to any of the characters in this story. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya and their respective companies. No profit is made from this writing and no copyright infringement is intended.

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The Trouble With Americans...

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Kiku was beginning to think he'd let the joke go just a little to far. It was one thing to let Alfred think the new student was a female, but it was another story to allow him to continue thinking so—especially when said glasses-wearing blond was trying to pick her up.

"So, is true what they say about California girls?" He was asking Feliks. He rolled his eyes.

"You totally sound like such a creeper. What's your deal?" Kiku was curious himself. What did they say about California girls? Something sexual, probably.

A flush quickly spread across Alfred's cheeks. It was strange the way he could be so confident and ridiculously full of himself one minute, and the next minute a blushing bride. He scratched the nape of his neck, again.

"Hey! I'm not a creeper, I just think you're like hot, and stuff. What's the problem with that?" Feliciano's eyes widened. Even if Feliks had been a girl, Alfred had gone about flirting in the most classless way possible. Kiku was beginning to get nervous. As far as he knew, homosexuality wasn't something completely accepted in America (or anywhere, for that matter.)

It wasn't even that Alfred was gay, just that he was confused (boy that sounded almost just as a bad, didn't it?) While Alfred didn't seem like the type to beat someone up, with Americans and the issue of homosexuality, you can never be too sure.

"Dude, I'm like so not into blonds, and even if I was, I wouldn't be into you. Ew. Do you even know the meaning of the word _subtle_?" Kiku was fairly certain he didn't. To be honest, he was kind of surprised that Feliks even knew the word, really.

Feliks and Alfred were loud talkers by nature, and several other students had turned around in their chairs in hopes of overhearing some juicy gossip.

Kiku figured he really had let things slip too far.

"Alfred—" but Alfred clearly wasn't listening.

"But you're blond! How can you not be into blonds? It's like your racist against yourself!" Alfred seemed particularly perturbed. Maybe Alfred was just one of those stereotypical Americans—blonde, big-boobed bimbos being his only type. But then, that would be strange, because Feliks didn't have any boobs. Hell, as far as Kiku knew, he didn't even have a vagina.

"Aryan nation much? Like, gosh, why don't you just talk to Mr. Nazi up there?" Feliks punctuated the last statement with a loud smack of his lips and the swift turn of his head, causing blond hair to whip behind him in a dramatic manner. Kiku wondered if something like that took a lot a practice.

"Cause I'm not a faggot!" Alfred gathered a few more pairs of eyes when he said that part. Kiku swallowed. At the very least, couldn't they all use their indoor voices?

"Um, I'm like totally confused then." Kiku looked at Feliciano. Feliciano shrugged, looking equally as helpless. Kiku sighed, and leaned over to whisper in Alfred's ear.

"Feliks is a boy, Alfred." Alfred looked horrified, and Feliciano giggled.

Feliks smacked his lips again, oblivious

"Like ohmigod, this class is like, so gay. Who needs algebra anyways?"

Alfred, finally having digested the entire scenario—looking more embarrassed than Kiku had ever before seen—held his hands up in mock submission before defensively muttering:

"No homo," just in case the class needed some clarification.

:::


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the right to any of the characters in this story. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya and their respective companies. No profit is made from this writing and no copyright infringement is intended.

The Trouble With Americans...

::::

7. ignorance and existence

::::

For someone who claimed they hated Algebra, Alfred was ridiculously good at it. Kiku wondered why Alfred had ever requested tutoring days before.

"You need help?" Alfred offered, swiping a stray piece of blond hair out of his too blue eyes. Americans and Europeans were so lucky with the variations their eye-colors offered. Kiku had always found the dull blacks and browns of Japanese eyes incredibly, well...dull.

"No thank you," Kiku mumbled into his paper. He certainly wasn't jealous. Sure, Alfred had finished the problems a little earlier than him, but that was fine—in fact—that was _good_. Alfred needed a boost in his grade a hell of a lot more than Kiku did. He certainly wasn't bitter about it.

"Are you sure—"

"Quite."

Alfred quieted. As the moments ticked by in silence, Kiku began feeling something akin to guilt. Hunching his shoulders and sighing, he turned to Alfred.

"I apologize for snapping, it's just—"

"So you think that new kid's gay?" Alfred asked overtop of Kiku's sentence. So apparently he hadn't hurt Alfred's feelings at all. Perhaps it was simply hard to hurt a person's feelings when they had the attention span of a goldfish.

Kiku shrugged. "I don't know, I don't concern myself with the affairs of others."

Alfred rolled his eyes and lowered his voice to a whisper.

"But that doesn't bother you? What if he's like, a complete queer?" Kiku wasn't sure which direction Alfred was trying to steer this conversation, but he wasn't feeling inclined to end up lost in the Brokeback mountains of homosexuality.

"Why would that bother me?" Kiku finally asked, intrigued. In Japan, homosexuality wasn't so much as accepted as it was ignored. If anything, you "shamed" your family, no grandkids and all that. Your peers?—they just tended to look the other way.

"Well what if he checks you out or something?" Kiku arched an eyebrow. Was that even a serious question?

"Don't you look at girls?"

"Yeah but—"

"Well it's the same. Either way, it doesn't concern us." Kiku attempted to get back to work and down to business. Alfred was ahead of him, after all.

"Yeah, but that's not natural. Guys are _supposed_ to check girls out." Kiku managed not to roll his eyes.

"Lots of things aren't natural, but we still accept them." Alfred scoffed.

"Like what?"

"Like microwaves," Kiku said simply. The list was endless. Besides, why did it matter whether it was natural or unnatural or genetic or a choice or a disease that you got from eating too many baked potatoes? Alfred wasn't gay, Kiku wasn't gay, and so it didn't _matter_. It wasn't their business.

"Look, that doesn't count! We need microwaves to survive! Being gay is like, I don't know—there's just something wrong with it! Look at him, he looks like a girl!" Alfred pointed past him at the blond-haired boy and Kiku quickly pushed his hand away.

"You didn't have a problem with it yesterday."

"I didn't know he was a boy yesterday—I already said no homo!"

"Ah, of course."

They lapsed into silence again, and Kiku wondered if Feliks and Feliciano had overheard the entire thing. They did sit just two seats over. Kiku could certainly hear _their_ conversation with crystal-clear clarity. Before Kiku could stop himself from listening, it was already too late.

"Does it hurt?" Feliciano asked the blond, looking nervous and concerned.

Feliks shrugged. "I-d-k, I've never done it before. I like, almost did it with this one guy one time—but he ended up just giving me a blowjob and then I was totes too tired afterwards."

Feliciano's eyes widened, and Feliks delivered a haughty smirk.

"So how far have you gotten?"

Kiku didn't want to find out. As quickly as possible he engrossed himself in his math worksheet. Just what was wrong with those two? Didn't they understand that certain conversational topics were better left private? Hell, some things were better left not uttered out loud at all! Well, at lest Alfred wouldn't bother him with useless questions anymore. The answer was fairly obvious.

An insistent tap at his shoulder made him think otherwise.

"Kiku!" Alfred whispered insistently. "I think Feliks _is_ gay." Kiku wanted to turn to him and say, _no shit sherlock_—however, Kiku wasn't especially fond of profanity, and especially not in a school setting.

"Imagine that," Kiku said quietly instead. Next Captain obvious would be alerting him that the sky was blue or something equally as obvious.

Alfred jabbed him with his elbow again. "Do you think it's 'cause he's from San Francisco?" Kiku shrugged, and cringed when Alfred nudged him again. What could he possibly want now?

"Where's that even at anyways?" Alfred asked, curious expression completely genuine. "It's in California, right?"

_No Alfred_, he wanted to say,_ it's off the coast of Brazil_. He didn't, however, because the last thing Kiku wanted was to teach Alfred just where Brazil was–much less it's coast. Kiku slumped against his desk in resignation instead.

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	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the right to any of the characters in this story. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya and their respective companies. No profit is made from this writing and no copyright infringement is intended.

::::

The Trouble With Americans...

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Kiku was sitting quietly in Spanish, just like he did any other day. The worksheet on his desk was—for once—completed, and there was a mechanical pencil neatly placed at the top. Today, his socks matched, he hadn't forgotten his notebook, and he hadn't tripped up the stairs. Even better, there wasn't a piece of chewing gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. Why was it, then, that Kiku was no happier than the day before?

He glared at the empty seat in front of him. He looked around the classroom. The same old, loud, stupid neanderthals. He stared pointedly at the door. Minutes ticked by. He huffed, and went back to glaring.

"Dude, are you like, sure you're okay?"

Kiku turned. It was Feliks. He managed a weak smile and nodded. "I'm fine, why do you ask?"

"Well, cause like, that was like the third time I asked, and like—this is the first time you said anything!"

Kiku sheepishly rubbed the nape of his neck. He stopped. That wasn't a nervous habit Kiku had ever noticed in himself before.

"I'm fine, just tired." He turned back to face the blackboard. He laid his head flat against the desk. It appeared Mr. Hernandez was done teaching for the day. Of course. Kiku had almost drifted off into a beautiful, dreamless sleep, when a high-pitched voice brought him back to reality.

"Soooo, do you like, always look super mad when you're tired?" Kiku wasn't sure how to respond. He certainly wasn't angry.

"Or is this 'cause Alfred isn't here?" He hadn't considered the thought before.

Kiku considered it. Was Alfred's absence the reason he was feeling so down-hearted? Alfred was his only friend (Kiku was even hesitant to call him that much) but really, Kiku didn't need friends. He certainly didn't need loud, classless, ill-mannered ones—

The classroom door slammed open and Kiku's head swiveled in the direction of the door so fast his hair was left to dramatically trail behind him. Perhaps is wasn't practice after all, just a little luck and good timing. It was the counselor. Mr. Hernandez walked over and began to talk with her. He couldn't help but feel disappointed.

Kiku turned back to the blond. Kiku hadn't had a moment of peace since Mr. Hernandez had moved Feliks' seat next to his three days ago. Originally he'd been allowed to choose his own seat—which, of course, had been right next to Feliciano. As if the classroom hadn't been loud enough—but then, in a surprising display of authority, Mr. Hernandez had moved Feliks across the room for "chatting too much." Kiku had suspicions that it had less to do with chatter, and more to do with the fact that it meant Mr. Hernandez wasn't doing the chatting (with Feliciano, of course.)

Actually, _originally_ Feliks had been taking Italian during this period, but apparently the Italian teacher had quickly caught on to the fact that he was cheating off of a native Italian speaker (i.e. Feliciano.) To Kiku, it still didn't make sense—it wasn't as if Feliks wouldn't just copy Feliciano's Spanish work now.

Another thing that didn't make any sense was the fact that Kiku knew all of this information to begin with. Thanks to the volume Feliciano and Feliks liked to converse in, he also knew their favorite colors, television shows, and unfortunately, the fact that Feliciano liked to listen to German when he "beat off."

Feliks was still staring at him. Kiku sighed. Again.

"Why would this have anything to do with Alfred? I told you, I'm merely tired."

"So what's up with you two anyway?" Feliks continued on, ignoring Kiku's answer. "You don't just like him, you like, like him like him, don't you?"

Kiku stared. He blinked. He gaped like a fish, waiting for the words to come.

Unfortunately, he hadn't understood a word of what Feliks had just said. To Kiku it had simply sounded like a blur of the word "like" with a few masculine pronouns thrown in. Kiku felt uncomfortable, and embarrassed that he still wasn't proficient enough in English to understand the native English speakers. Not to mention he didn't want to appear rude by asking Feliks to repeat himself, as if he hadn't been listening.

Feliks gave him a strange look, and Kiku didn't understand that either. Feliks wiggled his eyebrows. Then he said, "So do you?"

And Kiku, too embarrassed to ask him to repeat to the question, instead just shrugged and muttered, "I suppose so."

Feliks' eyes widened. "I d-didn't th-think, you like, you like—whoa!" his words trailed off into girlish laughter.

Kiku was beginning to think that perhaps he'd given the blond the wrong answer.

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	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the right to any of the characters in this story. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya and their respective companies. No profit is made from this writing and no copyright infringement is intended.

::::

The Trouble With Americans...

::::

Surprisingly, the next few days went by with little fan-fare. Mid-terms were looming just a few weeks ahead, and Kiku was almost entirely absorbed in his studies. He was beginning to feel the onset of pride that always accompanied his successful integration into a new school. His grades in all of his classes were more than adequate, not to mention improving. With the exception of Spanish (which he didn't like to think about), Kiku was satisfied with himself. He was almost looking forward to mid-terms. In a way, it was a chance for Kiku to show off.

Alfred seemed unconcerned.

"Man, fuck studying, ya know?"

Kiku turned slightly.

"You don't study at all?" Kiku wasn't all that surprised. A little envious, perhaps. While Kiku most definitely had better grades than Alfred, it seemed that the blond had somehow acquired the ability to to coast through his classes while exerting little to no effort at all.

"No way man! I got better stuff to do than that!" Alfred exclaimed, rocking his desk loudly as he shouted. Mr. Hernandez didn't seem to notice. Or care. Or both.

Kiku was curious. "Like what?"

For the first time, Alfred's smile faltered and Kiku felt awkward. His eyes trailed down to his fingernails. He began picking at the skin—a habit he'd been meaning to break. He hadn't meant to make Alfred uncomfortable. Kiku felt rude all of a sudden, and just barely resisted the urge to apologize and lapse into painfully stilted formality. Oh, how he missed when bowing were socially acceptable. And formal speech—a thing of the past.

"You know, just ah, things—" Alfred was struggling for words. Kiku wanted to tell him it was alright, and he needn't explain himself. Although, much as he hated to admit it, now he was curiouser than ever.

"I, like, totally know what he spends his time doing!" A high pitched voice interrupted, both saving Alfred from an impossible explanation and making him almost just as uncomfortable. It was Feliks (with a k, fyi.)

"Why don't you tell Kiku, huh, Alfred?" Feliks giggled. Kiku glanced between the two of them. Had he missed something? Did Kiku and Alfred get along better than he'd originally thought? He almost felt a flash on unwanted, well, it certainly wasn't _jealous. _Alfred had other friends, after all. But to confide a secret in someone like _Feliks_? Kiku didn't want to be rude, but he was almost offended.

The last time Kiku had checked, Alfred was still too shaken up over accidentally flirting with the other boy to actually attempt any regular conversation.

Besides, _Feliks_?

"Uh—um, what do you mean, F-Feliks?" Alfred was holding his hand against the back of his neck, rubbing it subconsciously. Kiku wondered if he ought to tell Alfred that he had that habit. It was always such a dead give away. But then, perhaps it was rude to point out something like that.

"You know—about that "hobby" that you have." Kiku wasn't sure he wanted to find out anymore. He glanced around the room, but Mr. Hernandez was still—still, ah, "tutoring" Lovino. Kiku resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Then he noticed the empty seat next to the fuming twin. That was unusual. He and Feliciano weren't good friends by any means, but still, an absence from school was troubling. Especially since his twin was still present. Usually they were a "both or neither" sort of deal.

Then again, maybe Japanese schooling was just ingrained in his head. Absences in this school appeared to be much more common. Kiku, however, was held to his parents' standards, and he'd yet to miss a day—even on the one occasion where he'd had a fever. Dedication to one's schoolwork was important, but Kiku was beginning to think that his parents could be a little extreme at times.

"Kiku, can you like, even hear me?" Kiku turned, confused. He could become lost in his thoughts at the worst of times.

"Of course. I apologize." He sprung for what he'd hoped had transpired while he'd been day-dreaming.

"You were saying you really like Alfred, correct?" Feliks made a gagging noise and Alfred's eyes shot around in ten different directions. Alfred even managed a half defeated "no homo" despite the lack of students who'd noticed.

"Like, ew,_ no_. I was saying you should tell Alfred how much you like, _like_ him." Feliks grinned smugly. Kiku cocked his head to the side. Alfred was turning increasingly red in the face.

"Ano...Alfred, are you quite alright?" Kiku asked softly. He wasn't sure what Feliks was going on about. He assumed it had something to do with Felicano's absence. Trying to stir up trouble, probably.

Alfred was quick to defend his health.

"Yeah I'm fine! Why would you ask something like that? Why wouldn't I be alright?"

Kiku cocked his head. Those two were acting awfully suspicious.

"That's good. I was just checking—"

Feliks opened his mouth again, a devious look in his eyes.

Alfred looked almost...frightened?

"I have to go to the bathroom!" Alfred announced. Feliks looked simultaneously confused and entertained. Kiku sighed, unsure of how to respond. He settled with a smile. Smiles were reassuring, weren't they?

Alfred excused himself to the bathroom without permission from the teacher, and Feliks burst into uproarious laughter.

Kiku inwardly sighed, but continued smiling.

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	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the right to any of the characters in this story. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya and their respective companies. No profit is made from this writing and no copyright infringement is intended.

::::

The Trouble With Americans...

::::

It wasn't so much that Kiku was eager to take Alfred up on his offer for help with Spanish, insomuch as he _had_ to. Quite literally. Mr. Hernandez had walked up to his desk, and with very disappointed eyes, whispered, "Kiku, I think you better take Alfred up on his offer." Then he had ghosted his hand across Kiku's back in what Kiku had hoped was meant to be a comforting gesture.

He laid down the test Kiku had taken just last week with a sad smile. It was the test Kiku had thought he'd done well on. He'd studied hard the night before, and tried his best to pay attention in class that week—no easy feat what with the way Mr. Hernandez ran the classroom.

Scrawled across the top of his paper in—_was that red sharpie?—_was a big fat "F." While the use of a sharpie was most definitely overkill, the grade at the top almost made Kiku's eyes water with frustration.

Failure.

Kiku's first reaction was to take offense—Mr. Hernandez really should not have been listening in on his students' conversations like that. Once the idea actually sank in, however, he realized that Mr. Hernandez was right. Kiku needed help.

How was he supposed to show his parents this? Kiku's dark eyes sullenly trailed over to where Alfred was being far too loud. He was grinning and laughing with a brown-haired girl, waving his test paper excessively in the air. At the top, was a neatly printed "A" and the words, "Great job!" Kiku scowled.

Alfred turned suddenly, blonde hair whipping behind his head; dark brown and blue clashing. Kiku quickly pretended to be looking for something in his backpack. He used it as a chance to quickly stuff his test paper inside before Alfred could see the grade. Kiku had to swallow and take a deep breath just to get it done. (Stuffing a paper into his backpack as opposed to neatly placing it in its designated folder really went against everything Kiku stood for.)

No one could see how embarrassingly Kiku had failed at what even people like Alfred could learn easily. Kiku didn't care if he needed the help—he'd find it elsewhere. The more he thought about it, the faster his heart seemed to race. He swallowed thickly. He could do this. He promised himself it wouldn't be a repeat of his elementary graduation ceremony.

Kiku took a deep breath. He tried to think clearly. He decided he would merely hire a professional to tutor him in Spanish, one that no one else would ever have to know about. He realized that hiring someone capable of teaching such _him_ Spanish would be no small feat, as well as require a good deal of money. Kiku knew there was no way he could confide in his parents, and he would therefore have to gain the funds on his own. Kiku almost immediately decided he would get a part-time job after school job—that, however, meant he would have to make up an excuse for coming home from school so late.

Kiku swallowed, his breath coming in short puffs. He unconsciously began picking at the skin around his nails, mind racing. Then he thought of the perfect explanation.

He'd simply tell his parents that he'd been elected as part of student council. Yes, that would not only appease his parents' questions, but also make them proud.

"What'd ya get?" A voice asked suddenly.

Kiku jumped, startled. He was still trying to figure out if his parents would want proof that he was part of student council, and if they did, how Kiku would be able to forge it.

He glanced up to meet blue eyes. It was Alfred, as always. He grinned.

"I said, what'd ya get on the test?"

All intelligible words fled from his mind. Should he simply lie and tell Alfred that he'd gotten a higher grade? What if Alfred asked to see his test to compare answers? Should he simply refuse him? What could he say? Realization hit Kiku yet again, as he remembered his entire reason for fabricating the story was the fact that he'd gotten an F on a test.

"Huh?" Kiku managed, trying to buy himself time. Heart racing, Kiku feigned confusion, zippering his navy blue backpack closed as quickly as possible. He avoided making eye contact, staring instead at the seat Alfred was sitting on. For the first time, he noticed Alfred didn't seem to have a backpack.

"Your test, duh! What'd you get on it?" Alfred waved his own test in the air again to make a point.

Kiku shrugged, trying to come up with a lie for Alfred. Contrary to what it may seem, Kiku was in fact not a fan of liars, nor a fan of lying. Kiku was reasonable, however, and he understood that sometimes drastic times called for drastic measures.

"Well, actually…" Alfred was the last person he wanted to inform about his grades. The last person after his Father, of course. Father would be enraged—Kiku didn't even want to think too much about what would happen if he found out. But Alfred—he would probably have the school laughing at him before Kiku could even finish the phrase, "Lower your voice."

"It's okay," Alfred began, whispering suddenly. "Mr. Hernandez already told me. We can help each other like we talked about, right?"

Kiku's eyes widened. He was at once flooded with two distinct emotions: panic, which he had become quite familiar with over the years, and rage. Rage that Mr. Hernandez had disclosed Kiku's personal information without his consent, and panic because who knew who else Mr. Hernandez planned on informing—or even worse, those he had already informed. What if Mr. Hernandez had already contacted his parents?

Kiku wasn't one for foul language, but, _shit._ Why hadn't Kiku thought of that before? Of course Mr. Hernandez was going to contact his parents. He had just received a failing mark on an important test! There was no way around it.

Kiku glanced down and noticed small droplets of red staining his test. He also realized, much to his chagrin, that in his panic he hadn't even stuffed the right paper into his backpack. The whole class had probably already noticed the failing grade. _Everyone knew. _

The class was laughing—Kiku tried to tell himself it had nothing to do with him, but how could he be sure? The lights seemed far too bright and Alfred seemed almost transparent. Kiku blinked, vision unclear.

"Hey, you okay?" Someone asked.

Kiku wasn't.

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	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the right to any of the characters in this story. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya and their respective companies. No profit is made from this writing and no copyright infringement is intended.

::::

The Trouble With Americans...

::::

Kiku managed to avoid Alfred for the next three days. He wasn't quite sure how (they shared nearly half of their classes with one another, after all) but he was proud of the feat, nonetheless. Kiku liked to tell himself that he wasn't really "avoiding" Alfred, per se, but rather "refocusing his studies." Kiku felt that his reasoning was completely warranted, if his failing spanish tests were anything to go by.

Thanks to Alfred's lack of presence, Kiku finally had the chance to do all of the things he'd been too distracted to do before.

Finally, Kiku could return to idly cleaning his fingernails with the tip of his ballpoint pen. That was definitely important. Kiku couldn't believe it, but his hygiene had most definitely suffered with Alfred around. Of course, he also had been neglecting to make sure all of his pencils were sharpened. And with Alfred around to chit chat, gossip, and guffaw, Kiku had most definitely never had enough time to recheck his math, much less recheck it the necessary three times!

Kiku swallowed.

"You're like, totally pathetic." Kiku nearly had a heart attack. For a millisecond, his brain seriously considered the thought that Feliks was a mind reader.

"What do you—"

"Oh god—don't tell me you're gonna play dumb! You've been acting like Alfred pissed in your miso soup for like three days. Hate to say it, but, the jig is up. What'd the big ape do? Forget the Chinese New Year?"

It took Kiku an awkward moment to process everything that Feliks said, and another awkward moment to think of a response. Even then, it wasn't very good.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"Ohmygod. Do I have to spell it out for you? Why are you ignoring Alfred?"

Kiku swallowed. "I'm not?"

Another head appeared beside the blond.

"But Kiku, when he told that really funny joke the other day, you didn't even laugh!" Feliciano looked positively scandalized, as if not laughing at Alfred's jokes was truly a crime against humanity. Kiku hadn't done it on purpose, he had merely been focusing on his classwork. He tried explaining.

"I'm not ignoring Alfred, I'm simply trying to focus on my—"

Feliks didn't buy it.

"Kiku, I've been copying all of your classwork for like, two months. It takes you like thirty seconds to do it. Since when does this class require, like, any kind of focus?"

Kiku swallowed. "Yes, but when I finish early, I like to—"

"Obsessively clean your nails and sharpen and resharpen your pencils? I've noticed, and quite frankly, it's kinda embarrassing."

Kiku was almost offended by the frankness. Feliks was assuming that Kiku was purposely ignoring Alfred, going out of his way to be rude, and worst of all, accusing Kiku of lying. Kiku would have been offended, that is, if Feliks hadn't been so right.

Feliks leaned in, a little too close to for comfort. He lowered his voice to a whisper. Kiku was surprised he had the capability (if only he'd use it more often.)

"Look, we all know what this is really about. So just like, make up already. No one cares that you got an f! Except like, you."

Kiku's eyes widened considerably. If Feliks knew, did that mean everyone knew? And how exactly did Feliks know in the first place? Had Alfred told him?

"Calm your tits, sir stress a lot. Just let Alfred help you in Spanish. It's like, the only thing he's good at."

Kiku realized that his first instinct was to leap to Alfred's defense, explaining in all too much detail that there was quite a long list of things that Alfred was good at, Spanish merely being one of them.

"I think I will talk to him," Kiku amended, nodding. Feliciano shouted in jubilation. Feliks offered a self-satisfied smirk.

With a wicked glint in his eye, Feliks continued:

"Since he hasn't been in school today, I think you should stop by his house."

Kiku shook his head immediately. It would be inconsiderate, rude, most importantly, completely awkward. Not to mention Kiku had no idea where Alfred lived in the first place.

"Luckily, I like, totally have his address!"

Kiku startled again, and made another illogical concession for the day. This one, of course, was to think more quietly.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the right to any of the characters in this story. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya and their respective companies. No profit is made from this writing and no copyright infringement is intended.

::::

The Trouble With Americans...

::::

Alfred's house was both completely shocking and yet exactly how he'd expected it. In some ways, Kiku had envisioned something similar. Row homes in the city were only so different, after all. There were the same spacious kitchens and smallish bathrooms, the same outdated wallpaper and off-white walls, and of course, the same Euro-American architecture: something straining between elegance, practicality, and pure American enthusiasm. Kiku could see the British history in the beautiful wooden staircase, the usefulness of strategically placed closets, and of course, the slight slope of the hardwood floors screamed nothing less than American.

The house, of course, was as expected. The home was something new altogether.

For some reason, Kiku had half-imagined Alfred's home life as frozen in the fifties. He'd imagined Alfred's father as a hard working, clean shaven businessman with perfect amber eyes and wavy brown hair. In his mind, Alfred's mother had been a stay at home Mom, full of blond hair and baked-from-scratch pies, obsessed with keeping the house neat and orderly. He'd imagined Alfred's house would smell of lemon and pin-sol, and that his Mother would great Kiku with a warm sort of southern comfort.

Nothing in the world could have prepared Kiku for the harsh reality.

The woman who greeted him at the door was wearing an open bathrobe with a black tank top and white boxer shorts underneath. Her hair was more or less strewn about, clearly unbrushed, and her dark eyes held something heavy and unyielding inside them, ensconced in heavy eyelids that told nothing short of exhaustion.

"What do you want?" Kiku quickly double checked that he was at the right home. He began picking with his fingers, fidgeting.

"Ano, is Alfred home today?"

She sighed. "I wish he wasn't, but go on up."

She held the silver screen door open for him, and for a moment, Kiku just stared at her. She slammed her hand against the door, rattling the tin.

"You coming in, or not?"

Kiku quickly followed her inside. There was a strange smell in the air. Alfred's mother pointed towards the stairs before heading back towards a well-worn couch.

Inhaling deeply (and almost immediately regretting doing so) Kiku began making his way through the sheer amount of stuff that consisted of their home. He climbed over chairs, coolers, empty wrappers, an old microwave oven and a bike with a flat tire. By the time Kiku had made his way to the top of the steps, he had to stop to catch his breath. He decided to put the state of Alfred's home on the back burner for now, saving his mind for analyzing different problems—namely, which door led to Alfred's room.

One door was completely untouched and clean, while the other two were completely covered with stickers. One door seemed to house stickers supporting various sports teams, while the other was suffocating under stickers of cute cartoons. When Kiku spotted an american flag sticker on the latter door, he figured it was the best sign he'd ever get. He gave a hesitant knock.

"What? I already told you Mom, I'm broke!" The voice became louder as footsteps approached, and the words died on Alfred's tongue and he swung open the door.

There was his classmate, standing there in nothing but ill-fitting boxers and the body he'd been born with. The boxers had pokeballs on them. Kiku barely had the time to be embarrassed for him, before Alfred spoke.

"Kiku," Alfred managed, voice hoarse.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the right to any of the characters in this story. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya and their respective companies. No profit is made from this writing and no copyright infringement is intended.

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The Trouble With Americans...

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Alfred sputtered. Kiku couldn't recall a time he'd seen Alfred so frantic. In a strange way, it put Kiku at ease. Kiku gave him a few moments to gape and gather his bearings.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?"

Alfred managed a jerky nod. "Yeah, but, um. It's kinda a mess."

Kiku would have laughed if he'd known Alfred better. He would have even made a sarcastic comment, like how it couldn't have been worse than whatever was going on downstairs.

Kiku stepped slowly into Alfred's room, trying to observe as much as possible. It was a little cramped, and a little cluttered, but no messier that what Kiku assumed most teenaged boy's rooms looked like. Kiku's room, of course, was spotless. The entire bedroom was pretty typical. The strangest thing in the room, was Alfred.

He was darting around the room, throwing articles of clothing into his closet, hopelessly trying to stuff his already overflowing trashcan with more balled up tissues, and even stranger, clearing his entire dresser of a fairly large collection of small, plastic ponies. Something about the entire thing was almost endearing. Kiku laughed, despite himself.

Alfred jerked his head around with a hair whip that would have rivaled Feliks'. He looked completely stricken. Kiku was finding himself surprisingly relaxed.

"Sorry everything is so—"

"It's alright. I don't mind."

"Uh. Yeah." Alfred used his foot to shove a pile of conspicuous magazines under his bed, while simultaneously smoothing out the bedsheets. He sat down for a moment, breathing heavily. He motioned to the spot beside him.

"Um, you can sit. If you want."

Kiku nodded, taking the seat beside him. For the first, time Kiku noticed how much larger Alfred was than him. At school, Alfred's towering hight and full build were hidden in the small, cramped school issued desks and plain uniforms. It was much different, however, to see him with so little clothing, to see his lean torso and thick calves. Kiku was beginning to feel the tell tale signs of self-consciousness creep up on him again, when Alfred launched off of the bed and nearly scared Kiku out of his own skin.

"Shit, um. I should get dressed. Duh. Haha." The laugh was forced, but the awkwardness in it incited another laugh Kiku didn't know he had in him.

He tripped into jeans and shrugged a hoodie over his shirtless torso. Alfred took a deep breath. He sat down across from Kiku at his computer desk.

"Yeah, so. Um. What brings you here?" Kiku laughed, again. He was starting to feel like he was on a roll.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the right to any of the characters in this story. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya and their respective companies. No profit is made from this writing and no copyright infringement is intended.

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The Trouble With Americans...

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"You haven't been in school." Kiku said honestly. Usually, Kiku didn't worry. Then again, usually, Kiku didn't have friends to begin with.

"Yeah, well. What else is new?" Alfred was irritated. Kiku realized he hadn't considered that Alfred might be anything but happy to see him. While their last interaction hadn't exactly been World War II, they hadn't left one another as allies, either. Said last interaction had consisted of a painfully awkward situation where Alfred had told a mildly racist joke, and Kiku hadn't even cracked a smile.

Kiku wasn't sure how to remedy the situation. He had the sinking feeling that a formal apology wasn't going to do the trick. He glanced around the room, as if searching for an answer. There was an entire bookshelf packed with books—upon further observation, manga—and at the top there were several action figures of characters Kiku didn't recognize. The posters on his walls ranged from bodacious babes to cowboy bebop. It was an amusingly eclectic mix.

His favorite, however, was most definitely the two small plastic ponies on Alfred's desk, standing seemingly unnoticed by their owner. They were uncharacteristically girly, and well, cute. Kiku had always had a penchant for cute things. Kittens and small knick knacks and onigiri with a smiling face.

"I like your ponies," he said casually.

Alfred looked horrified.

"Ponies? What do you...?" He glanced around the room, searching for the culprit, before spying them next to his computer monitor. He snatched them up immediately, stuffing them into his pockets as if they'd never existed. He laughed.

"They're, um. My sister's. They're my sister's!"

"Ah," so they didn't share the same love for cute nicknacks after all. It was a little disappointing, as they shared so few interests already.

"I wasn't aware you had a sister—"

"He doesn't," a new voice said flatly. Kiku turned his attention to the doorway. For a minute Kiku thought he was seeing double. A blond, blue-eyed, glasses wearing doppelganger was standing in the doorway. At first glance, he looked strikingly similar to Alfred, but it only took a moment of further observation to notice the the bigger build and longer, curlier hair.

"Matt, get out!" Alfred rushed to shut the door on the other man, pushing him, trying to cram the door shut against his body. There were muffled protests until Alfred finally managed to lock the door.

He waved the whole thing off. "Hehheh. Brothers, right? Gotta love them!"

Kiku was sometimes naive, but not this time.

He spoke slowly. "You don't have a sister, do you?"

Alfred laughed.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the right to any of the characters in this story. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya and their respective companies. No profit is made from this writing and no copyright infringement is intended.

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The Trouble With Americans...

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Kiku realized with an awkward jolt that Alfred hadn't been asking a rhetorical question.

"Yeah, so uh...what's up?"

Kiku didn't really know what to say. Why _was_ he here?

He'd arrived with the intention to apologize, of course, but he wasn't quite sure if that was really the best course of action anymore. They'd had semi-good conversation so far, so to suddenly apologize would surely coat the room in an awkward silence. Not that there wasn't an awkward silence ensuing already, but still, a seemingly random apology definitely wouldn't help things out.

How would he say it anyway? Kiku was sure a simple, "I apologize" or, "I'm sorry," wouldn't suffice. With Kiku's luck, Alfred would ask what he was apologizing for instead of merely accepting the apology and letting Kiku know he was forgiven. And just what was he here to apologize for, anyway? For ignoring and avoiding Alfred for two days? It wasn't as if they were best friends, after all.

Alfred coughed. "So, uh...just wanted to stop by, I guess?"

Kiku wanted to apologize. He really did. He even started to say it.

"Alfred, I'm just...I'm, well..."

Then Kiku's mouth made a decision all of it's own, completely separate from anything and everything that Kiku thought was a good idea.

"I was hoping you could help me with Spanish."

Alfred's eyes widened in surprise, and Kiku wanted to melt into a puddle of humiliated goo on the floor. Kiku waited for the laughter, the joking, and the ridicule. He waited for Alfred to mock him, to tell him, "I told you so," and to ask for some sort of payment. He waited for Alfred to bring up how the other day, Kiku had failed his Spanish test and nearly fainted from the ordeal.

He waited all for naught, because instead, Alfred beamed and exclaimed:

"Alright, cool! Did you bring your Spanish book?"

Luckily enough, Kiku had. He hadn't done it with any sort of premeditated planning, either. Sometimes life just worked liked that, no foresight necessary.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the right to any of the characters in this story. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya and their respective companies. No profit is made from this writing and no copyright infringement is intended.

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The Trouble With Americans...

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They spent the rest of that sunny afternoon sprawled out on Alfred's too-small-for-two-people single bed, knocking elbows and bumping wrists as Alfred taught Kiku the ins and outs of Spanish. Alfred explained the similarities between English and Spanish, the simplicity of masculine and feminine, and the complexities of verb conjugation. The more Alfred explained it to him, the more Kiku felt emboldened with the new knowledge.

Once he actually understood the basics, the whole language didn't seem so bad.

It helped that Kiku wasn't the only one struggling with something new. Alfred was as used to being the teacher as much as Kiku was used to receiving the tutoring.

He stumbled over his words often, and more than once taught Kiku something that he later realized wasn't correct, and had to go back and re-teach. Kiku noticed that Alfred was the kind of learner who just knew how to do it right, but didn't understand the hows or whys. It was sort of like knowing how to write an essay with good grammar and spelling, but not actually knowing any grammar rules.

In the beginning, it had made the whole session difficult and confusing, but it was almost as though halfway through, something had clicked in the both of them. It was around that time, when they began to understand each other, when speaking became easy and understanding became almost automatic, that Kiku started to lose track of time.

The light in the room went from early afternoon sun to late evening dusk with little notice. For once, Kiku didn't feel anxious. He didn't pick at his cuticles, worry about what his parents would think, or berate himself for every small mistake. (Alfred had forced him to stop that early on in the tutoring session anyway.) Alfred was the first person that made making mistakes seem like some completely commonplace and acceptable behavior, like something that just _happened._

For Kiku, it was like he could let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. He didn't have to keep the air trapped in his lungs, or keep his muscles tense with anxiety.

Sometimes, Kiku got the answers wrong, and afterward, Alfred would kindly correct him. When Kiku's palms started to sweat, it was almost like Alfred could sense it, because suddenly Alfred would turn to him and remind him of all the answers he'd gotten right. It was an unexpected help.

There was a lot they both weren't saying, Kiku knew it. Kiku didn't press about whether or not Alfred really had a sister. He didn't ask Alfred where his father was, or why downstairs was full of so much clutter that it was almost impossible to reach the stairs. He most definitely didn't ask Alfred why he rarely showed up at school, especially since Kiku was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

In return, Alfred didn't ask for a single detail about Kiku's home life, and didn't ask him why he'd gotten so shaken up over a grade on a test. Alfred didn't even ask how Kiku had gotten his address, or why he'd been ignoring him at school in the first place.

They were both glad for it. They didn't need to talk about any of that stuff. Kiku just needed a little tutoring in a subject he was having trouble with, and Alfred just needed to teach it to him.

When they finished the tutoring session, what they did talk about was the nonsensical.

They talked about favorite colors, favorite foods, and the way they liked their eggs cooked. Alfred eventually confided in Kiku about his love for a children's show about magical ponies, and Kiku confessed that he found Hello Kitty equally as endearing. They talked about Feliks and Feliciano—mostly Kiku complained about how they spoke too loudly, and mostly Alfred speculated about their sexuality.

When it was time to leave, Kiku was frozen between the urge to bow and the urge to shake Alfred's hand. Alfred solved the miniature crisis for him instead, grabbing Kiku with one arm and pulling him into a hug. Kiku tensed, fighting the instinct to shove Alfred away. He wasn't used to physical contact, not even at home, and a hug was most definitely pushing too much into his personal space.

Despite his panic, Alfred didn't let go. He just squeezed a little tighter, almost as if it was Alfred that needed the hug, and not Kiku.

Then he pulled back, grinning, as if the few-seconds-too-long hug had never happened. As Kiku turned to leave, a shout from Alfred made him turn back.

"See you at school tomorrow!" Alfred yelled, waving his hand in the air.

Kiku smiled.


	17. Author Update

Hi, I just want to thank everyone who been reading this story so far, whether you have reviewed, favorited, followed, or just lurked in the corners, thank you.

I know I haven't updated in some time, but don't give up on me yet. I tend to let real life get in the way, but I am not finished with this story. I've been writing a ton for it tonight, and plan on continuing to write even more through the night. Expect an update sometime tonight, or tomorrow in the early morning, and expect another one a few days later.

I want to warn you that the story may be taking just a slightly more serious turn. I've changed a lot as a writer since I wrote those first few chapters, and after such a long hiatus it's a little difficult to jump back into the old groove of things. I hope that the fun humor I've worked so hard to infuse into the story isn't lost with these new chapters, and I hope you all continue to enjoy what I've written.

I would also like you all to keep in mind that these chapters will rarely exceed 700 words, so asking for longer chapters is moot. When I began this project is was as a fun thing to do for myself, and I always intended to write short, nearly drabble length chapters. I apologize if that's not what you're looking for, but that's all I have to offer for the time being.

Sorry for the delay, and expect updates shortly.

-blockedthewriter


	18. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the right to any of the characters in this story. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya and their respective companies. No profit is made from this writing and no copyright infringement is intended.

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The Trouble With Americans...

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Sometimes, Kiku enjoyed the walk home with Alfred more than the time they spent together when they got there. Maybe it was what people meant when they said that sometimes you have to enjoy the journey more than the destination. This particular journey was proving to be one of the most fascinating ones yet. Alfred had suggested taking a new route, and the weather was prime for such spontaneity. Leaves crackled beneath their feet as they walked with light footfalls, and Autumn reds and browns and golds swirled in front of their faces with each gust of wind. It might have been a little chilly, but Kiku was too distracted by Alfred to notice it, and Alfred was wearing his usual heavy bomber jacket that deflected the cold all too efficiently.

"Are you sure we're going the right way?" Kiku asked as their surroundings became increasingly unfamiliar. It was becoming decidedly more tree filled than Kiku was used to. They weren't young, spry, half-bent little saplings that the city had just planted, either. No, these trees were thick towering trunks of maple and birch, trees decades older than either of them.

"I'm sure. What, you don't trust me?" Between studying sessions and purposely long walks home, Kiku realized that somewhere in the mix, he had. He did trust Alfred.

Lost in thoughts of recent tutoring sessions and time well spent, Kiku walked face first into Alfred's back. Apparently, they'd arrived.

Alfred laughed when Kiku apologized, which was unnecessary, but not surprising. The pain in his legs was definitely worth it for the beautiful sight that greeted him. In front of him was a small, secluded field, full of overgrown grass, and shockingly, dragonflies.

They pittered around, hovering ten feet above the ground, flashing vibrant purples and blues and turquoise.

"It's cool, right?" Kiku nodded in awe. Alfred couldn't have possibly known how much this would mean to Kiku. In Japan, dragonflies were considered symbols of happiness, courage, and strength. Kiku thought about the late summer and early autumn days that he'd spent in Okinawa, chasing them with other children in his town. He remembered several famous haikus regarding the beautiful insects, but he was at a loss for translating them to Alfred and maintaining their meaning.

"Dragonflies are very important in Japan," he said instead.

"Really?"

Kiku nodded again, struggling to translate each line of the haiku in his head. "They remind me of a famous haiku-"

"Haiku? That's a poem, right? I think we had to write them in sixth grade or something." Kiku chuckled, partially relieved that he wouldn't be taxed with the job of conveying the writing of a famous poet across languages.

"What did you write for your haiku?" Alfred screwed his face up in concentration.

"I think it was something like...Haiku's are real cool, but they don't always make sense, I like potatoes." He let out a chortle of laughter, and Kiku joined him briefly.

"That was...surprisingly clever," Kiku said between smiles.

"Yeah, well it better've been," Alfred started, heading away from the beautiful insects and back towards his house.

"I copied it from the internet." Kiku wasn't sure weather to chastise or congratulate him.


	19. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the right to any of the characters in this story. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya and their respective companies. No profit is made from this writing and no copyright infringement is intended.

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The Trouble With Americans...

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Kiku liked Alfred's house, despite the overabundance of just, well, stuff. Halloween was coming up, which Kiku had completely forgot about, and the house was entirely overdecorated. The windows were plastered with cheesy not-at-all-scary decals, there were fake spiderwebs on windowsills, bats and spiders hanging from the ceiling, and in the very front window there was even some kind of fog machine and fake cauldron getup.

"C'mon," Alfred urged Kiku, quick to usher him into his bedroom. Kiku rarely saw other parts of the house, except for the one awkward night when Alfred's mother had attempted to cook dinner and it'd been so bad that they all gave up and ordered pizza instead.

Once safely in the confines of his bedroom, Alfred let out of a breath of air and flopped onto his bed. He always carried himself with a forced sense of carelessness, as if beneath the layer of don't give a fucks was a very real feeling of inadequacy and self-consciousness.

Alfred sat on his bed and Kiku took his computer chair, Alfred's blue eyes hopping between Kiku's schoolbag and his shelves.

"Should we start right away?" Kiku asked. Alfred usually wasn't one for efficiency, and they usually dawdled a bit before they got started. Sometimes they even did more dawdling then studying.

"Uh, I wanted to ask you something," Alfred started awkwardly. His hand was behind his head again.

Kiku nodded his assent. Alfred rarely prefaced questions like this, but Alfred was also an unusual fellow.

"Do you, um, have you ever-do you watch my little pony?" Kiku cocked his head, and before he could even tell Alfred no, he didn't, because he didn't really watch television, but he had seen the advertisements, Alfred had already started backtracking and apologizing and shaking his head.

He looked completely embarrassed, and though Kiku could imagine why, he was surprised that Alfred thought he would even care about something like that.

"I know it's stupid, and for kids, and I don't really know why I like it, but-" But Kiku knew why he liked it. It was almost too obvious that Alfred didn't really like his home life, and he liked to escape reality in any way that he could, even if it was into an animated television show geared towards young girls.

"It's not stupid," Kiku said. He reached down and lifted his backpack, pointing to the pink and white pin.

"When I was little I used to watch Hello Kitty all the time. My mother always told me I'd get laughed at, but I didn't care. My grandmother didn't mind either, and she gave me this before she died."

Alfred looked uncomfortable, struggling for words.

"What I mean, is that I don't care if you like ponies, Alfred. They're cute, and it doesn't affect our friendship. I don't care about things like that."

Alfred swallowed and nodded, though his fingers were a little shaky.

"I have something like that too, but it's not as cute," he pulled his jacket tighter around himself, and Kiku waited for him to share, to collect himself and let him in.

"My Dad gave me this before he left. It used to be his," Alfred said quietly, gesturing to his oversize leather bomber jacket. Kiku nodded quietly, struggling for something to break the silence that had fallen between them.

"I wouldn't mind watching it sometime."

"Huh?"

"My Little Pony," Kiku clarified. "I'll watch it with you, if you want."

As much as Kiku preferred small anthropomorphic kittens, he'd give small, anthropomorphic ponies a try, if that's what Alfred liked. Alfred brightened, and Kiku figured it would be worth it.


	20. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the right to any of the characters in this story. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya and their respective companies. No profit is made from this writing and no copyright infringement is intended.

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The Trouble With Americans...

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Kiku wasn't sure how Alfred had managed to elude him for every lunch period until now. He usually spent his lunchtime quietly eating his homemade bento, reading a book, and catching up on his studies in the small booth towards the back of the lunchroom. Feliks had once invited him to sit at his table, where he sat surrounded by a flurry of chattering females, but Kiku had politely turned him down. The table was far too full of gossip and screeching for Kiku's liking, and he knew that if he sat there, he'd never be able to concentrate.

The first time he saw Alfred walk in, looking out of place and nervous, he waved him over. It made him feel odd, like Alfred was the new kid, instead of the other way around.

"I never see you here," Kiku remarked as Alfred took the seat across from him.

"Yeah, well..." Alfred struggled briefly to find the words.

"I never really—I'm not really friends with Feliks, and Feliciano has the other lunch period—not that we're really friends either—and besides, he sits with his terrifying brother anyway, and you know, I'm pretty sure that guy is involved in the local mob, and-"

"Well you can sit with me, now. Though I'm not very exciting. I usually just catch up on my studies, or read."

"That's cool! I read too sometimes. When I was little I used to read the Captain Underpants books, they're hilarious man. Ever read those? Oh, and I just finished Harry Potter!"

Kiku sighed, closing his book.

"Nah man, go ahead. I don't want interrupt." Contrary to his words, Alfred reached across the table, snagging Kiku's book.

"Life of Pie? Is this about cake?" Kiku shook his head.

"His name is Pi," Kiku corrected.

Predictably, Alfred laughed. Kiku scowled, reaching across the table and snatching the book from Alfred's mocking hands.

"Pie! What a name!" Kiku resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and went back to picking at what little of his lunch was left. He wasn't really hungry, but he was grateful for anything that would distract him from Alfred's aggravating behavior.

"Hey," Alfred said in a much quieter voice.

"I didn't mean anything by it. I was just kidding. I'm sure it's a great book." He picked the book back off the table, and flipped it open and began reading out loud for good measure. He stumbled over the words a bit.

"Sounds...er, fascinating. And intellectual." Kiku's lips quirked into a smile.

"Really? Maybe you should give it a read." Kiku said, trying to maintain a straight face against the laughter that wanted to bubble up his throat.

Alfred's shoulders tensed.

"Nah, I mean you're right in the middle of reading, that would be so rude, and-"

"No, I've already read it once. I was just reading it for fun. But I'd much rather it see a new set of eyes."

Alfred's eye bugged as he searched for an excuse.

Kiku smiled wickedly. He couldn't help it, and Alfred did deserve it, after all.

"I insist," Kiku said, pushing the book back into Alfred's hands.


	21. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the right to any of the characters in this story. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya and their respective companies. No profit is made from this writing and no copyright infringement is intended.

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The Trouble With Americans...

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"Probably a sexy bunny," Feliks said authoritatively, and Feliciano predictably gushed. Kiku was unsurprised.

"Really?"

"Totes. With a like, a little tail and ears and shit."

"Wow."

"What are you going to be Feli?" Feli was the nickname that Feliks had taken to calling Feliciano, invented sometime between yesterday's Algebra class and now.

"I don't know, maybe...pasta?" Kiku wasn't surprised about that either.

"Ew. That's food. That's not sexy," Feliks chastised, looking disgusted. Feliciano frowned.

"Um, maybe I can be...a cat?" Feliks nodded enthusiastically, and Kiku couldn't stop the assault of adorable images that burst into his mind, of Feliciano with cute little cat ears and a tail. Kiku almost wished he were dressing up too. He'd never dressed up for Halloween before.

They turned to Alfred next, who was looking more bored than Kiku has ever seen him, and seeing as they shared Algebra class together, that was saying something. Alfred shrugged when they asked him what he was going to wear to the party.

"I'm not going," he muttered. "I'm trick-or-treating."

Feliks burst into loud laughter, and Feliciano looked sympathetic.

"Um, aren't you like, five years too old for tricks and treats?"

Alfred ducked his head and hid the hurt well, but Kiku caught the wisps of it in the corners of his eyes.

"Fuck you. Free candy, man," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"So whaddayou gonna dress up as little Alfred? Spiderman, a fairy princess?" Kiku thought that jab was definitely unfair, especially considering the fact that Feliks was going to be a sexy rabbit.

"Nah man, fuck you. I'm gonna be Jason, like with the hockey mask."

Kiku wasn't sure who Jason was, but Feliks rolled his eyes when he said it. Kiku was surprised. He'd expected Alfred to announce he was going to be anyone from Superman to Ash Ketchum, but hardly someone as average and normal sounding as Jason—whoever he was.

"What're you gonna be Kiku," Feliks asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"Oh, I'm not dressing up," Kiku corrected politely. His parents would never let him get away with something as foolish and American as dressing up for Halloween.

"Of course he is!" Alfred interjected, wrapping an arm around his shoulder obtrusively. Alfred had become more and more touchy feely lately, and while it hadn't bothered Kiku when they were alone in his room studying, here, in the middle of Algebra class it made him feel strange and uncomfortable.

"Oh my gosh! You guys should totally dress up together!" Feliks said excitedly, clapping his hands.

Alfred cast him a quizzical look but Feliks continued on before Kiku could even get in a word.

"I got it! If you're gonna be Jason, Kiku, you can like, totally be his victim!" Feliks grinned, and a small smile slipped onto Alfred's face.

"That's the first good idea you've ever had," Alfred admitted. He turned to Kiku, blue eyes shinning excitedly with a smile that Kiku just couldn't look away from.

"What do you think Kiku, wanna be my victim?" Kiku sighed. He supposed he'd be dressing up after all, and he'd have to start fishing for good excuses immediately, because this wasn't going to be an easy one to slide by his parents.

"As long as you acquire the costume," Kiku said at last, smiling back.


	22. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the right to any of the characters in this story. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya and their respective companies. No profit is made from this writing and no copyright infringement is intended.

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The Trouble With Americans...

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Trick or treating went far better than Kiku expected. His parents were working late, and even then, they'd accepted Kiku's feeble excuse about late-night studying with a friend from school without so much as batting an eyelash. Sure, trailing behind groups of four year olds and their parents was kind of awkward, and sometimes they got weird looks when Alfred loudly exclaimed "trick or treat!" but it was definitely worth it—for a couple of reasons.

First and foremost, Kiku got to inwardly gush over the sheer amount of cuteness that surrounded him. Kiku had expected horror and gore, but instead most of the children were just plain adorable. Little girls dressed up like like princesses, butterflies, and animals, while little boys dressed up like spiderman and superman and power rangers. The smallest of children—toddlers that could barely walk and infants pushed in strollers—were dressed like up like bumblebees and ladybugs, and there was even one dressed up as a Hershey kiss and Kiku could barely handle it all.

"So cute," Kiku whispered to Alfred, subtly gesturing to a little girl with cat ears. It made him think of Feliciano, and he wondered briefly if he and Feliks were enjoying themselves at the party.

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Halloween is supposed to be blood and guts—scary stuff!"

Kiku laughed as they started towards Alfred's house. It was getting late and the houses were starting to run out of candy, the children slowly petering out as parents took them home for bedtime. By the time they made it back Kiku's feet were sore and his arms ached from carrying the heavy pillowcase full of candy.

The house was dark and the living room was strangely empty.

"My Mom and Mattie are out at a party," Alfred explained as he turned on all the lights on the first floor. Kiku thought that maybe that was a waste of electricity, but he didn't voice his opinion.

"Not the same party, I mean! Mattie's at that one that with Feliks and Feliciano," Alfred hurried to elaborate, as if Kiku had assumed. He nodded, but there wasn't much he had to say on the matter.

"That means we can watch scary movies down here—it's gonna be awesome! The screen its way bigger!" Alfred said, grinning and dashing for the steps.

"Be right back, I'm gonna grab my xbox and my external hard drive!"

Kiku nodded, arranging the sheet that was draped over the couch and gingerly taking a seat. He wished Alfred had told him what they'd be doing in advance—he would have brought a flash drive with his favorite horror movies. Alfred wasn't the only one up to date on technology.

Alfred came down the steps in a tangle of wires, struggling to carry his xbox and external hard drive at the same time. The setup only took a few minutes, but it was the selection that seemed to last for hours. Alfred couldn't make a decision to save his life, and every time he seemed about to pick, he would shake his head and go back to all of the movies, tapping his foot nervously as if what movie they'd watch was some sort of life-changing decision.

Kiku couldn't stand it anymore.

"The Grudge is good," Kiku said hopefully when Alfred hovered over it.

Alfred cringed but forced a smile. Did he not like some of the movies he'd added to his own movie collection?

"You don't mind that it's the Japanese one—" Alfred started, before stopping himself and bursting into laughter. Kiku quirked a brow and smiled softly.

"I've seen it already but I haven't seen a movie in Japanese in a while. It'll be nice." Alfred grinned, jumping up to make popcorn and turn off all of the lights. Sometimes Kiku really didn't understand him.

One blanket and two bowls of popcorn later, Kiku was beginning to regret his movie choice. Alfred was tapping his foot nervously, tensing his body every time something scary was about to happen, and he screamed nearly every time something scary did actually happen. And Alfred screamed loud.

And then every time Alfred screamed he felt it was necessary to pause the movie and—

"Sorry, ahahaha, I don't usually do that, it's just," Make up excuses for himself. Kiku didn't really care very much that Alfred screamed, so as long as it wasn't so close to his ear.

"It's fine Alfred, let's just watch the movie," Kiku said, trying not to sigh.

Towards the end of the movie Alfred was was watching from between his fingers, shaking like he was freezing, which Kiku knew had to be impossible because they were under a comforter and the heat was on. Who would have guessed that Alfred would be so afraid of something as silly as a horror flick?

Still, Kiku had to admit that even he jumped just a little bit when the front door slammed open during a particularly tense moment of the film. Kiku recognized Alfred's brother almost immediately. He waved while Alfred peeked out from beneath the covers, so close to Kiku that he could feel Alfred's body heat.

"You still watching horror movies, Al?" Mathew said, words slurring slightly and smelling like alcohol. Alfred quickly tried to compose himself, forcing a laugh.

"You know me, I'm not afraid of anything!"

Mathew rolled his eyes and kicked the door shut behind himself.

"Yeah well I hope Kiku is spending the night because you're not sleeping in my bed," Mathew said, laughing.

"Haha!" Alfred said, awkwardly loud as Mathew flipped on the light switch, illuminating the living room and the spilled popcorn covering the blanket.

"Yeah right Mattie! You mean when I let you sleep in my bed because you were scared!"

Mathew laughed dismissively as he made his way up the stairs.

"Whatever you say Al. Just keep it down, I'm having company soon," Mathew muttered, slamming his bedroom door shut.

Alfred rubbed nervously at the base of his neck.

"You can spend the night if you want," he offered. "Not because I'm scared, just cause like—"

Kiku resisted the urge to roll his eyes, as if Alfred wasn't as see through as the plot to this movie.

"I'd be honored."


End file.
